


Is Love the key to Memories?

by Mischiefs_Hawk



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:39:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mischiefs_Hawk/pseuds/Mischiefs_Hawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a gift to a lovely person on the Facebook Sladin group- contact the lovely Wynja for more info.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is Love the key to Memories?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hanakisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanakisa/gifts).



His first sensation was being cold, a kind of eerie chill settled into his very bones along with something else. An odd kind of strength, it had the feel of something of long forgotten, almost like he had forgotten the real strength of youth.   
And he was young- somewhere in the high teens or lower twenties. Though an exact age was something he could not figure out. His mind was fuzzy- half with pain and half with confusion.   
The young man rose, stretching and cracking his bones. Once they gave the teen a satisfied crack, He wondered how long he had lain here in the dirt. Around him snow gently fell to form a pseudo mountain range around his body. He was in an alleyway, tall buildings surrounding him on three sides with only the opening to the alley as his exit way.   
Where was he? Who was he? Although the second question seemed substantially more troubling it was the first which seemed to be time sensitive. His clothes were torn, dried blood in the slits where he had presumably been hurt though upon further inspection he found no cuts, gashes, or even bruises on this body.   
How could he have been hurt, that his clothes all but shouted at him as a fact, but he have no visible scars or marks on his body?  
Rising, the young man tumbled into the nearby trash bin. Although his mind was fuzzing, the harsh dank smell pushed his mind into a certain clearness as the smell forced him awake.   
It was the same kind of effectiveness that dumping cold water on someone has.   
Straightening himself up, the young man ducked his head out of the alleyway to look at his surroundings. Thankfully it was nighttime so few people were out and about- wait. Why did it matter if people saw him? Why did he need to not be noticed?   
A voice in the back of his head told him that trusting people wasn’t a good idea, that getting caught would just cause more problems.   
He couldn’t let the titans see him!  
“Who are the titans?” Giving a slight shake of his head, he decided to ignore it for now until he found somewhere warm and safe to think things through.   
The snow which had found a home on his white blonde head tumbled onto his skin, making him shiver. Jesus, how cold was it? What the hell had he been doing? In the edge of his mind, the teen recalled a fight, a stoplight colored man and a burst of green, blue, and purple energy pulse.   
Then just pain.   
Taking one more breath, he walked out into the city.   
Keeping his hands at his sides, hoping to look normal as he could, he walked.   
It wasn’t long before he noticed the odd looks he was getting from the various pedestrians still out and about despite the presumably late hour. Or maybe it was an early one.   
Figuring out the looks were targeted at his ripped clothes, the teen decided what he needed to do was get some new clothes- the question was: Where?  
He didn’t have any money as far as he knew. He didn’t know anyone he could get money from. He didn’t have anything he could pawn either. That left one option open for him-stealing.   
A few moments later, he found what he believed to be a cheap clothing store- it would be better to steal from the cheap who would likely have little to no security system then some place like Ralph Lauren.  
For a moment, he wondered if he had done this before. The way he slid through the back door, breaking the thin chain on the door like it was nothing, and sliding in and out of the store in two minutes flat. Why had he counted?  
The teen had grabbed grey jeans, a black t-shirt, and a faded orange hoodie. Despite orange’s bright and eye catching aesthetic, he found something comforting about it.   
Just to be safe, he ran down a few blocks and across a few more to ensure a good bit of distance between himself and the store- which it turns out did have an alarm system.   
When he deemed himself far enough away, he found a public restroom to change in. Thankfully empty, he was able to take his time changing into the warmer clothes. He could not be in any way described as weak- his body had well-toned muscles and his skin was tanned from what he couldn’t tell. Looking in the dirt incrusted mirror, he studied himself.   
His mind was so blank, except for what laid in the back in a misty foggy storm.   
He was likely in his late teens, as he already decided though it was possible that he just looked older. He had shaggy long blonde hair that he’d prefer to pull back or cut off. Over one of his eyes was a scar, long and jagged like a knife had been over his face. How the hell he had use of it, he wasn’t sure.   
What was his name?  
Bundling up his ripped clothes, something fell out of the pocket with a clatter. It was small, about half a foot long. It had curved edges and was painted or printed red. For some reason, the term boomerang came to mind. Picking it up, the man couldn’t help but feel how wonderful craftsman ship it was made with. It was a work of art for a weapon- sleek, sharp, deadly, and beautiful. Just like its owner.   
‘Wait, owner?’ He didn’t feel like he would complement himself like that so he must have gotten it from somewhere else. Was it a gift? Flipping it over in his hand and catching it, the man came to the conclusion that he probably stole it. Something like this wouldn’t be given as a gift.   
Slipping it into his hoodie pocket, he turned to throw away the ripped clothes when an image came to mind.   
An S, thick and shining with a dark kind of silver or iron, placed on a black background.   
Weird.   
He walked back out into the chilled air, though slightly more prepared for it, for quite a while. After walking for what was possibly a mile, he found a sort of shopping center across from a park. The morning sun’s light shone through the trees, reflecting against the cities tall buildings and the shopping center’s windows in a lovely display.   
Taking a seat across from the stores in a black metal bench, the young man decided to watch the city go by for a while until he could think of a plan.   
Unfortunately, the combination of the day- really the night’s events- had worn him out. Although he hadn’t really done much except steal and walk it had probably been whatever he had done before he’d woken in that ally that had been a lot. It wasn’t long before his head dropped to the back of the bench and he was asleep.   
The young man didn’t dream while he slept, light as it was as it wasn’t long before he woke from a sound located directly in front of him. Without even thinking about it, he reached towards his center and directly in front to grab a fist full of a jacket.   
“Hey! Easy, man! I’m just trying to help you!” He opened his eyes to find an older man maybe in his late thirties or early forties with graying hair and a puffy red jacket.   
His eyes were wide- likely out of fear due to that I had my hand wrapped around his neck. Removing my hand, I apologized to the stranger.   
“Sorry. You surprised me.” The stranger gave him a smile.   
“It’s alright, young man. You’ve got some quick reflexes. That’s good, considering.”  
“Considering what?”  
“That you’re homeless.”   
He didn’t have a response to that. As far as he knew, it was true.   
Brushing his hair back, the teen tried to think of how to respond to that. Was this guy a cop? If so, he probably should run. He’d rather figure out who he was/is by himself then get the authorities involved.   
Looking over the man once more, considering his older age, the way he stood with slack as if he had never heard of the proper stance for a fight, and by judging that the man probably weighed around 250 lbs, if he were a cop, he could most definitely out run him.   
“Don’t worry, I’m not with the police. I just run a shelter down on fifth. It’s for kids and women. You look about 17, still a kid. We’ve got beds and food, would you like to go?”   
The young man didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure how to answer. He would very much prefer a bed to the hard bench he was laying on. Plus, if they food then he wouldn’t have to steal it.   
Although, he was entirely confident that if need be, he could steal what he needed without any consequences from it.  
Giving the man a curt nod, he stood up.   
“Great! I’m Robert King, What can I call you?”  
There was a beat of silence before the teen shrugged. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t see a point in lying. If need be, he could always run.   
“I don’t remember.”  
“Amnesia, huh? Well, we’ve got a trained nurse who comes by every now and then. I’ll give him a call and he can check you out for a concussion.”  
“Thank you,” For a moment, he was surprised by how kind Robert was to him, a stranger. How weird.  
“Until we do find out who you are, we probably should give you a name. It’d be awkward to just yell Hey boy! Or something.” The mention of him being a boy filled his mind with an odd kind of rage, he was in no way a boy!   
He was a man, he’d bathed in enough blood, slept with enough people, and-  
The teen blinked, that voice in the back of his head was really insane. He had to wonder if that voice which seemed to know so much about him was the key to remembering who he was. If it was, then was he certifiably insane?   
“How about for now, we call you…Grant?”  
Grant, the name felt familiar. He didn’t feel a particular ownership of the name but it did feel familiar. Perhaps it was a friend’s name? Or a relative? Either way, it was the only name he felt connected to so it would have to do.   
Grant nodded, “Okay.”  
Mr. Robert grinned, “Alright then! Let’s be going.”   
The two began walking, Robert mentioning various aspects of the shelter that were of particular notability or helpfulness. They were about to cross a street, a large glass building with the sign “Jump city Central Bank.”, when an explosion blew through the air. Its heat blast passing over the trees and grass igniting them. Without a thought to it, Grant pushed Robert behind him- shielding the elder man with his body.   
He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be hurt if the clothes he had been wearing when he woke up were any -----.   
Behind him, towards the explosion, he heard odd sounds accompanied with the regular ones someone would assume went with an explosion. There were screams, far off sirens, fire alarms. Beyond that, he heard a distinctively male voice giving orders. Letting Robert go, Grant turned towards the fire to see the man the voice belonged to. In the air, being held up by a flying redhead, was a young man. He wore an outfit of red, green, yellow, with a black cape and hair. His eyes were hidden behind a white mask that had black edges.   
Grant couldn’t place why, but not only did the boy seem incredibly familiar, he felt an incredible mix of ownership and desire for him.   
“Who is that?” Grant thought aloud, his voice coming out in a murmur. Watching the teen flip from the redhead, and into the fire without a fire- God he could watch him for hours.   
“Come on, Grant! We gotta get out of here-“  
“Who is that?” Grant asked again, louder this time.   
Robert looked terrified, his eyes wide and his hair had soot and dirt from the explosion in it. Making it look greyer then it was before.   
The elder man pointed to the building where odd spiderlike creatures were crawling over it, seemingly fine despite the fire.   
“It’s the Teen Titans! They’re superheroes. Now, come on-“Grant was about to allow himself to be pulled away when he saw the teen, obviously the group’s leader, and fall. The other four he had come in with were either inside the building saving whoever was inside or destroying the spiders so they didn’t see. Grant had seen the spider shoot something at the leader’s back, striking him and paralyzing him?  
Pulling away from the elder man, Grant took off towards him. He had to save his Robin since his apparently idiotic teammates couldn’t. Running past the firefighters, police, and ambulance workers who tried to stop him, Grant was able to flip over them. Right as the boy was about to slam against the hard concrete, the hoodie wearing teen flew through the air and caught him. Bringing the teen close to his chest, Grant spun through the air making sure he landed on his back so Robin wouldn’t feel the impact.   
Later on, he would wonder how he knew Robin’s same and why he felt such a surge of something-love. - For him.   
Turning over so he couldn’t gently deposit the boy on the ground, Grant checked his pulse. It was weak. Robin tried to move, though he was only able to groan in response.   
“Stop, you were shot with something likely a paralyzer.”   
Robin tried to lift his hand, his fingers twitching and a groan of “behind” when Grant realized there was something behind him. The spiders. Fuck.   
Grabbing Robin, grant threw him over his back, then turned to face to the spiders. Keeping one arm on the leader to keep him steady- he used the other to fight.   
Taking out the small red weapon he had from his past, Grant used it to destroy the metallic beasts brave enough to go up to him. It wasn’t until he slid the blade inside the first beast that he realized they were indeed robotic. On their backs a strange design was printed. The design was a mix of red blue and white in a similar way of the British flag with two m’s intertwined.   
The image caused a sharp pain to go through his head, like a sword stabbing his brain behind his eyes. Ignoring that pain, and that from the sharp spider appendages, Grant continued fighting. His mind. His thoughts, blacking out so he only focused on what was going on in front of him. He had become completely focused on protecting the leader, like a parent protecting their babe.   
Like a knight fighting the dragon for the damsel in distress.   
Once the fighting was over, -- Grant only realized it was done when there wasn’t a single functioning spider left around the building. The fire was out and the remaining four teen titans had circled him. There was the red head who had flown in with robin, her hands glowed a bright emerald green matching her eyes.   
“Put Robin down!” She cried, her voice curved with an odd accent he couldn’t place. She was definitely not from around here.   
The green one- he was literally completely green- transformed into a mammoth and roaring. Unintentionally, Grant tightened his grip on Robin who tapped at his back.   
“Okay, if you don’t put me down it’ll be bad for you.”  
Ignoring the slight heat rising in his cheeks, Grant allowed the teen to leave the safety of his arms to stand.  
-  
Robin stood shakily, his legs were still shaky from the agent he had been shot with. His legs suddenly loosed and he was about to fall when the guy caught him.   
The guy with the orange hoodie grabbed his arm, keeping Robin steady and standing despite how his team yelled for him. Rising a hand to quiet them, Robin studied the guy who had saved him.   
He was about Cyborg’s height if not an inch or so shorter, with incredibly white hair like snow long enough that he could probably pull into a ponytail, and an incredibly fit. Just judging by the bits of the fight he had seen and by the grip the teen had on his arm Robin knew he was strong.   
And familiar. He couldn’t figure out why but there was something about the teen that screamed out to him. His blue eyes there were so light blue they were almost transparent, his fighting style. God, what was it?  
“Who are you?”   
The teen paused for a moment, before introducing himself.   
“My name is Grant, sorry about interfering with your work.”  
“Robin,” he said, offering his hand “and don’t worry about it. You were great, from what I could see.”  
-  
Grant smiled at the compliment, though it slightly bothered him. How the hell did he know how to do… any of that?  
The group stepped around them, obviously weary of Grant’s presence. He supposed that with everything they had gone through, likely others had popped up pretending to save them only to betray them. It had to hurt.   
“So, where’re you from?” the black cyborg asked, his red and normal eye scanning over him.   
Grant shrugged, about to answer when Robert ran up to him.   
“Grant! Are you crazy? Are you alright?” The older man pushed right through the teen super heroes to grab his shoulders.   
“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.”  
“Is this your dad?” Robin asked, looking between the two, likely noticing the total zero physical similarities between them.  
“No, see I have amnesia- Robert here was the first person to find me.”  
“Amnesia?” A softer voice said, belonging to the only other female in the group. She hovered about half a foot in the air with a dark blue cloak wrapped around her as she levitated to him.   
“I can probably unlock your memories,” she suggested. “Though, I’d prefer to do it back at the tower.”  
The teen glanced over at Robert who was grinning “That would be wonderful, Ms. Raven! Isn’t it, Grant?” Who nodded in response.   
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble?” the blonde asked, earning a small smile from the sorceress. “Well, we are heroes.”  
Before Grant could say anything, the redhead who only a moment ago was about stuff him fill of energy blasts, let out a shriek type life, flying over to him and grabbing his wrists.   
“Come, New Friend! I must show you our tower!”   
Apparently the previous apprehension to Grant’s presence had been forgotten once Robin had given his blessing. Without really much of a choice, grant allowed himself to be flown over Jump Bay to the Island which served as the Titan’s base not far from the coast. The Tower, to him at least, was a giant Eye-sore and completely noticeable.   
“How do you know your enemies won’t attack something so blatantly obvious to be the Titan’s HQ?”   
Starfire gave him a peculiar look, one he could only identify as a mixture of sadness and curiosity- though her odd eyebrows and alien facial structure might have just been messing with his ability to read faces. The red head landed gently on the roof of the tower, where it looked like there was a volleyball net set up for the team to play as well as some other lawn furniture.   
‘I guess either they haven’t been attacked in a while, or their villains are just polite enough not to steal from them.’ Grant thought as he noticed Starfire nervously brushing her hair back.   
“We… in our first years together as a team, we were attacked many times. Most often by… but he stopped about a year ago. Now,” here, she smiled. “Now no one attacks and if they did, we would surely defend our home! Come! I will show you the tower!”  
The tower included pretty much what he expected, there were amenities, a huge kitchen, living room, gym, training course, the titans rooms with their names printed on them. The only room that caught his eye was one that was on one of the lower levels, there was nothing printed on it but a sheet of paper someone had taped to it in rubbish handwriting wrote “-----‘s Shrine” He couldn’t make out the first word, it seemed to be a name most likely. Staring with an “S.”   
“What’s that?” The teen asked Starfire, who had been rambling on about something called Silkie. He had a feeling it was pet of sorts but by the description it sounded like a larvae. Honestly, Grant had kind of been zoning out after they had gotten through most of the levels.   
“Hmm? Oh,” Starfire was a few feet from him, but when she noticed the room he gestured to, she didn’t move forward. Her eyes seemed to glow in anger, like they had before when they had almost fought. Whoever the room belonged to, whosever shrine this was, Starfire the alien wanted them dead.   
‘I wonder if it’s the same guy she mentioned before who disappeared a year ago?’   
“Calling Star,” Robin’s voice echoed through the small round phone all the titans seemed to have. Of course if they all had them, if one of their enemies were to take one of the communicators couldn’t they track them or psychologically torture them?  
Really, all these ideas he was having were staring to kind of freak him out- who the hell was he?  
“Yes, Robin?”   
“CY’s got lunch made and Raven thinks it’ll be better for Grant if he eats before she tries her spell.”   
“To Lunch!”   
It wasn’t long before the two were going up to one of the higher floors, Grant realizing with each coming second how hungry he was. Considering he didn’t know anything about before he woke up, God knew the last time he actually ate.   
Much later, Grant would look back on how he pretty much focused entirely on eating and not the odd looks he was getting in response- their questions only being silenced by Robin’s stare.   
Not that Grant cared one way or another. Food was food and he had been starving.   
After they had eaten, Raven had brought Grant to a darkened room. It was about normal size or so he guessed, big enough for a couch and a bureau for incense to be stored and burned as well as some other various magic necessities. The room smelt odd, something of a mix between something older something which reminded Grant of the old dynasties of China and something that made him want to curl up and go to sleep. A well thought of combo for what they needed to do.   
“Please, seat.” Raven asked as she sat on the other end, turning toward him. He did as instructed.   
Her hands were gentle, soft against his scarred skin. Raven’s hands went to either side of his head, on each temple as she murmured an enchantment softly “Azarath metrion Zinthos.”  
Immediately, Grant felt the flow of magic enter him, into his very soul as the dark purple black energy created a kind of shield around them. As the magic flowed through his body and up to his mind, Grant felt a sharp pain enter his head like a sword being shoved through it. A flash of images came to him, a young man – who looked kind of like him but harsher- signing up for an army experimentation, a beautiful brunette woman heavy with a child, and a boy. Beautiful like the woman but in a different sort of way. Grant didn’t see his face, only a pair of sapphire blue eyes that made him feel crazy. The sort of crazy that one feels when they haven’t eaten in days and would day anything at all too simply take a bite.   
That didn’t stop the pain, though. As the images came to him, Grant felt a new sting of pain- each more and more painful as they came. The last was a simple flash of red blue and white in the form of some kind of interchanged cross and a flop of orange red hair that left a bad taste in his mouth. Though that might have just been from the pain.   
It all finally stopped when he felt cold hands pulling him away from Raven, - their screams attracting the attention of the other titans.   
“Grant! Come on, it’s over. Grant, wake up.” Although most boys or teenage guys or men would be incredibly embarrassed to wake up in the arms of another guy – probably because of the whole ‘gay is bad and effeminate- but Grant could really care less because well, why should he care to begin with?   
“Hey there,” the teen said softly, his throat suddenly dry though if that was from the close proximity to Robin- whose attractiveness was suddenly becoming more burdensome as he noticed it- or the pain, Grant wasn’t sure.   
“You alright?”   
Grant nodded, sitting up and brushing a hand through his hair in order to pull it back and out of his eyes. God, why hadn’t he cut it?   
“Yeah,” he looked around to find the room empty save for him and Robin. “What happened to Raven, I can’t really…” he trailed off.   
“Well, we know it didn’t work. Or that’s what Raven reported when she woke up. Whatever caused you to lose your memory, Raven can’t fix it. But I’m not going to give up alright?” The titan smiled, reassuring and confident.   
How can he be so confident when he can’t possibly have any idea what’s going on?   
Robin stood, offering his hand to the exhausted teen. Grant, in the span of about 24 hours had kicked some major ass and been faced with some intense questions but here he was. At titan’s tower with their leader offering his hand- his friendship, and maybe, perhaps, something more?  
Taking Robin’s hand, Grant stood on unsteady legs, willing to let whatever happened happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, no?  
> Alright so this ended up being less of a one shot (which was its intention) and more of a beginning of a series 


End file.
